


if you're with me, then everything's alright

by Knightblazer



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Game(s), Spoilers, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblazer/pseuds/Knightblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>
    <span class="small">("Whatever happens, I wouldn’t trade the years we’ve had together for anything.</span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span class="small">I love you.")</span>
  </i>
</p><p>After stopping the Qunari, nothing and everything changes. Dorian struggles to cope with it.</p><p>(Post game + everything else, Trespasser spoilers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you're with me, then everything's alright

**Author's Note:**

> WOW SO WHO HAS TRESPASSER FEELINGS??? I SURE DO.
> 
> So, yes. This fic deals with the events from meeting Solas onwards to pretty much everything else after that. Massive spoilers, of course, so read at your own discretion. [Just a quick look of my doofquisitor](http://hulkism.tumblr.com/post/123964537775/inquisitor-javas-trevelyan) for people who are interested to know how he looks like, and yes he's basically the personification of the cinnamon roll meme floating around everywhere.
> 
> Fic is unbeta'd because I'm just getting out THE FEELS so apologies in advance for all those pesky grammar and typos. This fic goes out to all those Dorian/Inquisitor people out there!! Hope you guys all enjoyed Trespasser as much as I did. I sure as hell enjoyed it.
> 
> (Title is from Laura Shigihara's _Everything's Alright_ because sure, let's make this even more heartbreaking.)

The feeling of dread started when the Viddasala mentioned Solas’ name.

Dorian tried to ignore it at first—especially when Javas was so determined to get to Solas first before the Qunari. _He’s still one of us,_ the Inquisitor insisted, and despite all of his own misgivings with Solas in the years before, it was still the truth. Solas had been one of _them_ , one of the inner circle, and Dorian knew how much Javas had always appreciated Solas and the friendship they shared when he was around.

But try as he might, the dread wouldn’t leave him, and it only intensified further with each eluvian they passed through. Just the first one had him stopping in his tracks, wanting to do nothing more than to grab Javas and pull him out of this damn place after the mark sent out a shockwave that had the rest of them falling to their knees while Javas himself collapsed onto the ground. 

Cassandra—still steady and strong, even after having become Divine—was the first one to recover from her shock and make her way over to Javas to try and help him up, but he only waved her off with his other hand. “I’m fine,” he said even though nothing in that strained voice of his showed him being fine. Dorian watched as Javas got back onto shaky legs, taking a moment to reorient himself before speaking again. “Let’s continue. We don’t have any time to waste.”

He should have forced Javas to go out of this place, at that point. He should have. But he didn’t. He _couldn’t_. Dorian couldn’t bring himself to stop Javas when he was taking all of this so personally. As if this was the only thing left he could do while he was still the Inquisitor.

_(“Whatever happens, I wouldn’t trade the years we’ve had together for anything.”)_

So they pushed on. So _Javas_ pushed on, running through every eluvian after the Qunari even as the mark on his hand became more and more uncontrollable with each new area they found themselves in. Dorian felt his heart clench tight every time he heard one of Javas’ pained grunts, could feel his stomach recoiling at the raw pulsing energy of the Fade as the mark flared and burst out shockwave after shockwave, leaving Javas on his knees or even worse, curled up on the ground at some of the bigger outbursts of energy. Even then, however, Javas refused to stop—they kept on going, all the way until the eluvian with that giant Saarath in between them. Dorian fought like he hadn’t fought before in that battle, not since Corypheus; there was too much at stake here, more than just himself or for his homeland. It was for Javas, for everything he had been fighting for all these years. For both of them. 

Once the Saarath was felled Javas quickly hurried to the eluvian. The rest of them followed, and Dorian trailed right behind Javas as always. He watched as Javas entered the eluvian, then started to do the same himself—

“Sparkler?”

Dorian felt his insides turn cold as the dread turned into outright fear. “The eluvian’s closed itself.” It was all that he could say as he tried to push uselessly against the eluvian’s reflective surface. “I can’t enter it.”

* * *

Fear and worry gripped Dorian tightly in equal measure as the minutes passed and there was no sign of the eluvian opening again. He had attempted everything that he could think of to try and reopen it again, but after the countless battles against the Qunari he did not have much strength left from the beginning, and the attempts had drained his remaining power.

Cassandra, at least, shared part of his emotions. “We cannot just leave the Inquisitor alone like this!”

“There has to be a reason why the damn thing shut itself off like that.” Varric gave the eluvian a glare at those words, despite his mostly calm voice. “Maybe something on the other side, or—”

Dorian felt the power before he saw it—he suspected even Varric felt it as well, despite being a dwarf. Before them the eluvian glowed, bright and shining and absolutely eye-searing, and Dorian shielded his eyes from the blinding light until it finally dimmed. When he lowered his arms, the eluvian was back to normal, before it had been abruptly closed off. 

All three of them took a moment to stare at the reopened passageway. “What was—” Cassandra started, but Varric cut her off before she could continue.

“C’mon, let’s go and find the Inquisitor!” He wasted no time, slinging his beloved crossbow over his back and hurrying over to the giant mirror, instantly passing through without any problems. Dorian quickly shook himself out of his own stupor and followed after Varric, all but running through the eluvian himself with Cassandra after him.

As it turned out, there was no real need to find Javas; he was more than visible the moment they all came through to the other side. Beyond the rows of Qunari frozen in stone was Javas, on his knees right before what seemed like a giant eluvian that was closed off in the same manner as the one they had just passed through. All three of them hurried over, with Dorian being the first one to reach him. 

“Javas,” he breathed out once he was close enough, relief and gratitude both in that one word. He was alive. Javas was alive. That was all that mattered.

Javas turned to look at him, and there was something profoundly different in his expression compared to before; something sad, painful, and full of regret. Whatever relief he felt from seeing Javas alive was quickly vanishing after seeing that look.

Varric’s voice broke through the turmoil of emotions festering within him. “What happened, J?” he heard him ask.

“I talked to Solas,” Javas replied, and Dorian felt something in him clench up hard. “He…” He watched as Javas trailed off and turned to look at the giant eluvian before them. “He lied to us. About everything.”

“What?” Cassandra, of course. Dorian couldn’t blame her for that reaction, though—he was about as shocked as well, even as the dread and fear grew inside of them, wiping away the little remains of his relief from earlier.

“Before we start on anything, I suggest we get out of here first.” Varric cast a look to all the petrified Qunari in the area, gaze slowly settling on what had once been the Viddasala. “That mark of yours really doesn’t like being here, judging from earlier.”

At the mention of the mark Javas turned his gaze down to his left hand, which had been resting upon his thigh. “I…”

Dorain took the initiative and shifted, draping Javas’ right arm over his shoulder, ready to support him. “Can you stand?” 

The silence stretched far too long for Dorian’s liking. Javas continued to look at his left hand, and Dorian realized now why he had been feeling the growing dread. The mark had been suspiciously silent. Far too silent, compared to all the activity from before.

“Javas?” he asked, even as a part of his mind was already running through the worst case scenarios, trying to mentally prepare himself for whatever bracing news he was going to have to take. 

But no matter how he prepared himself, nothing could make him ready for Javas’ next few words—words that were spoken so softly it almost seemed like Javas didn’t want them to hear at all.

“I can’t feel my left arm.”

* * *

Javas informed them of what happened as they slowly made their way out of the maze of eluvians. Solas was Fen’Harel. He was the one who tipped them off about the Qunari plot. He was the one who gave Corphyeus the orb in the first place. He was planning to tear the veil apart and recreate the world for his people. He was the one who stopped the mark from killing the Inquisitor once and for all by taking it away.

Dorian had never loathed anyone else as much as he did with Solas now.

Cassandra, on her own end, was also not taking it very well. “I should have suspected that something was up,” she was saying, more to herself than anybody else. “An elven apostate with specialized knowledge of the Fade, suddenly appearing at the time when we needed one the most? It was too much of a coincidence. I was blind to not have seen it.”

“You were desperate,” Varric, surprisingly, was the one who said that. “And everyone just wanted answers at that point, and Chuckles—Solas had them. Back then nobody really cared as long as there were answers.” There was something in his voice there that seemed to speak more than just the words he said, and Dorian could easily harbour a quick guess: Kirkwall. Considering what he had heard about it—not so surprising then, he supposed, what Varric had just said.

“It is no excuse for this,” Cassandra’s voice was pained, and the anguish was audible. “And the council will not care for the situation then, either. All they will see is that one of our own was the cause of this.”

Javas let out a weak laugh. “Josephine won’t be happy once she hears of this.”

Dorian pursed his lips for half a second. “And you shouldn’t be talking. Less talking, more walking. We’re almost there.”

Javas quietened down quickly at those words. “…okay.” He didn’t say anything after that, but Dorian could feel his left arm giving a feeble twitch. He wouldn’t have been able to feel it at all if it hadn’t been for the fact that Javas’ entire left arm was currently draped over his shoulders, or the fact that this was one of many other little twitches that Dorian had felt throughout the whole way back. The first few times he had glanced at Javas, but there was no acknowledgement back in return. But he knew Javas was consciously trying to do something—moving his arm? That seemed like the best possibility. 

He looked at Javas once the last few twitches had ceased, and paused at the expression on Javas’ face. Being a master of hiding his own emotions Dorian could easily read the hurt and disappointment that Javas was trying to hide himself. Though to be perfectly fair, Javas was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve; even the years of being Inquisitor could not change that trait of his. 

Dorian wanted to ask if anything was wrong, but he was interrupted with Varric’s announcement. “We’re here.”

They were back at where they started, coming out of the eluvian and bringing them back to the entrance of the Crossroads. It was sight Dorian was thankful to see and equally thankful to leave behind once they get through to the last eluvian out of this place entirely. 

Javas turned to Cassandra. “Can you go on ahead first? I need you to call Bull and the Chargers over for me.”

There was a momentary look of confusion on her face, but she nodded regardless. “As you wish,” she said, and turned to hurry out first before them, disappearing through the eluvian. 

Dorian adjusted his grip on Javas before they resumed walking. “We’re not far off now. Just a little bit more.”

“At least this is something you can rub in their faces,” Varric attempted to lighten the mood from Javas’ other side. “You stopped a Qunari invasion across the entire continent! That’s one hell of a one up from Hawke and plain ol’ Kirkwall.”

“I’m sure he’d like the hear that.” Javas finished his response with another small laugh, but somehow it sounded far too hollow to Dorian’s ears. There was none of the cheer and joy that Javas usually had. It just felt as if he—

He stopped his thoughts before they could go any further. Now wasn’t the time for all these things—he could dwell on them later. Later, once they were all out of here. Especially Javas. 

With both him and Varric helping Javas, it didn’t take much longer before they were through the last eluvian and back in the rooms of the Winter Palace. Bull and his Chargers were already there, by Cassandra’s command, and they helped to take over in supporting Javas up.

Sharp as ever, Bull was quick to notice that something was up. “What’s the matter with your arm, boss?”

Rather than answering him, Javas turned to Josephine, who must have followed the Chargers into the room. “Can you arrange a guest room far away from the rest?”

Josephine looked perplexed at the question, but replied nonetheless. “I doubt we can get another room, but the Commander’s room is at the end of the guest wing. I can make arrangements to switch rooms if you want.”

“Please.” He returned his gaze to Bull after that, and his voice was unnaturally steady as he spoke. “I need you to do me a favour, Bull.”

A frown crossed Bull’s features, but he managed a nod. “Anything, boss. You know that.”

“I need you to cut my left arm off.”

Dorian had never felt his insides freeze up as quickly as it had in that one, single moment.

* * *

There were protests, of course. Protests from Josephine, from Cassandra, from Varric, and of course, from himself as well. Even Bull and the Chargers seemed stunned by the request, but Javas would not change his mind no matter what any of them said (pleaded, in his own case).

“It’s useless,” Javas finally revealed the truth to them after they had spent the last few minutes trying to persuade him. “Whatever Solas did to remove the Anchor, it also rendered my arm useless. Or maybe it already did that beforehand. It doesn’t matter now. I can’t feel it at all.”

“Perhaps if you rested a little—” Josephine started, but Javas cut her off with a shake of his head.

“No amount rest is going to fix this. Or magic for that matter.” Javas glanced at his left arm then, lips pursed. He stared at it for a second more before looking back up to the Chargers. “I can feel it’s gone—for good. It’s better to just get it off entirely.”

Bull didn’t look entirely pleased on his own end, but he let out a loud exhale though his nostrils and gave his consent. “Once the room is ready, we’ll do it.”

Javas smiled. “Thank you,” he said, as if they were doing a huge favour to him. Dorian supposed it was, in a way. But still—it was all too much. Far too much.

* * *

Try as he might, Dorian could not stay in to see the act itself. He had tried to resolve himself to stay up to that point, sticking with Javas at every step of the way. He helped him to Cullen’s former room once Josephine managed to make the necessary arrangements and aided the Chargers in stripping off all the armor and weapons that Javas had on him. In the end Javas was wearing nothing else but a pair of loose breeches, sitting up in bed as Bull passed a mug over to him.

“Drink this,” he said, “It’ll help with later.”

 _Later._ Dorian had never been so terrified of that word up until now, when faced with the reality of what was going to happen. He felt his insides clenching up as he watched Javas wordlessly take the mug from Bull and drink its contents down, passing the mug back to Bull once he was done.

Bull took the mug back and refilled it before passing it back to Javas, eyeing him carefully. “You sure you want to do this, boss?” His voice was surprisingly quiet, and his gaze was serious.

Javas nodded. “It’s the best way to ensure that the Anchor isn’t going to be a problem anymore to me.” There was more to that answer, Dorian knew, but he didn’t ask. He couldn’t bring himself to ask it, not now, not when…

Dorian watched as Javas downed his mug once more and gave it back to Bull. “How much more of this do I need to drink?” he asked.

“Just one more.” Bull refilled the mug as he said it. “After that, we get ready.” He gave the mug back to Javas, who took it with a soft murmur of thanks this time.

He could only keep quiet until Javas was about to drink his third mug. “Ama—Javas,” he said, voice soft, nearly pleading. _You don’t have to do this. Please._

Javas turned to look at Dorian and smiled that quiet, reassuring smile of his. “I’ll be okay, Dorian. Bull and the rest can handle this. Don’t worry about me.” He raised the mug and drunk its contents in one go, giving the mug to Bull, who took it and put it away this time.

Once the mug was put aside Bull glanced over to Dorian. “It’s going to get bloody, Dorian. And not fun. You should probably get out.”

He should. Dorian knows that he should, but he couldn’t just bring himself to leave Javas like this, not when he knew what was going to happen. He looked between Javas and Bull helplessly, feeling even more lost than when he had received news of his father’s death. “I—”

Javas, with his impossible kindness and compassion, turned to give Dorian another smile and nod. “Go, Dorian. I’ll see you later.” His voice is soft, and in those quiet words Dorian thinks he can hear an apology. _I’m sorry. I love you._

_ (“I love you.” _

_ “I knew you would break my heart, you bloody bastard.”) _

Dorian can only nod and force himself to pull away from Javas, giving him one last look before he turned and left the room. He passed by Krem as he left, and he could see the blade that the mercenary was holding in his hand. 

He can feel bile rising from his stomach, and Dorian quickened his pace to distance himself as far away from the room as possible, to his own growing shame.

It’s an hour and a half later when Krem comes to find him, and the first thing that Dorian noticed is the fact that Krem has changed his clothes.

He tries not to think too much about that.

“It’s done,” his voice is quiet even though there’s nobody else outside now beyond the guards. “We’ve cleaned up the place, too, so you can go back in.”

Dorian can only manage a nod. He doesn’t know what else he can manage, at this point. He couldn’t even be in there when he knew Javas would need all the support he needed. The guilt of not being there weighs down on him.

As if having read his thoughts, Krem reached out and gave Dorian a pat on the shoulder. “Amputation’s never a fun thing, regardless of what position you’re in. Now all that he needs is support.”

It’s entirely inappropriate, but Dorian can’t help but laugh. It’s a short and sharp laugh, more self-mockery instead of amusement, pain rather than joy. “I doubt I can be of much help on that front.” Just the thought of seeing Javas now, after it all… Dorian has no idea how well he could actually take it.

He can hear Krem biting down a sigh. “Dorian, just. Go to him. He needs you.”

And there’s nothing else Dorian can do but listen.

* * *

The smell of blood is still strong in the air when Dorian steps into the room. The windows are open so that the smell can get out, but it’ll be a while before the smell would dissipate entirely. 

Dorian is pretty certain he’ll never forget this smell for as long as he lives.

Javas is lying down on the bed, and Dorian can see that he’s breathing heavily. Walking close, now it’s easy to see the bandaged stump that had once been Javas’ left arm. Dorian can only bear to look at it for several moments before he shifted his gaze away.

He must have not been as quiet as he had thought, because Javas is soon opening his eyes, and he turned to Dorian before he manages a weak smile. “Hey.” His voice is raspy, as if he had spent the last hour shouting and Dorian can guess that he had, even if he was too far away to hear it. He can’t imagine the entire thing having gone quietly. 

Dorian slowly settled himself down onto a chair next to the bed. “Are you alright?” He knows it’s a stupid question, but he can’t help but ask. It’s hard to try and be clever right now even though it’s usually so very easy. 

Javas, at least, doesn’t call him out on it. “Never better,” he replied, laughing weakly, although it soon turns into a cough. Dorian panics a little before he notices the jug of water nearby and goes to get a cup.

“Here,” he says, holding the cup for Javas, and he watched with a painful clenching in his heart as Javas struggled to even sit up in bed, clearly not used to lacking an arm. Dorian quickly placed the cup of water down and moves to help Javas sit up properly. 

A shaky sigh comes out from Javas once he’s settled into a proper seating position in bed, and he turns to smile at Dorian once more. “Thank you.”

Dorian quickly waved off the gratitude. “It’s the least I can do.” He should have been here when it was happening. He should have. Dorian cursed himself for being so weak, to care for himself more than Javas, when Javas is the direct opposite. He had always cared for others too much for his own good.

He stopped those thoughts before they could go on any further once more, and goes to take the cup of water, bring it back close to Javas. With his free hand he cupped the back of Javas’ head and tipped the rim of the cup to his lips, supporting him as he drank. Javas drinks until he’s had enough, turning away from the cup, and Dorian took that as his cue to put the cup away.

Dorian started to settle down on the chair again, but Javas stopped him by reaching out with his right hand, callused fingers curled around his wrist. “Can you…” he started, voice soft, and he trailed off for a moment before he rephrased himself. “I need help to lie back down.”

Swallowing, Dorian gave a nod, and he aided in lying back down. It’s not as hard as sitting up, at least, and soon enough Javas is lying down once more. Dorian takes a moment to ensure that all is well and then starts to pull away, but once again Javas stops him, hand grasping around his wrist before he can pull his hand away entirely. 

Moments pass and Javas doesn’t say anything, so Dorian quietly ventured forward. “Amatus?”

“I—” The hesitation is clear in his voice, and Dorian knows better than to push. He waits patiently, and after a minute has passed Javas seemed to have gathered his courage to speak. “Can you… just hold my hand? For tonight?”

Maker, how could he say no to something like that? “You didn’t even need to ask,” Dorian replied, trying a smile of his own, and he quickly twisted his hand around so that their hands were now clasped in each other.

Javas’ expression lights up at once, and Dorian instantly feels better as well. He gives Javas’ hand a brief, tight squeeze before settling back down onto the chair. He holds Javas’ hand until the other man has fallen asleep, but even then Dorian still doesn’t let go. He holds onto Javas for as long as he can, wanting him to know that he’ll always be there, no matter what. He would never let his _amatus_ go.

* * *

The days pass and Javas, if anything, is at least recovering quickly. It’ll still be a good while before he can start anything too physical, but at least he can walk around for a bit once he’s on his feet. Still, there’s only so much he can walk without bringing it attention from the rest of the Winter Palace, and most of Javas’ time is occupied with the advisors as they try to discuss on what to do with the Inquisition. 

The fact that the Inquisition is ending feels more and more real with each day. As the Exalted Council slowly starts drawing to a close, Dorian feels the urge to spend whatever time he can with Javas. There’s no telling what will happen once he returns to Tevinter and takes his father’s position in the Magisterium, and he doesn’t—he doesn’t want to lose whatever chances he has right now.

In between the days the rest of the (former) inner circle were told about the events that had transpired within the labyrinth of eluvians, and all of them were left to digest this new information and decide what to do themselves. Sera, in particular, had been quite vocal about her thoughts, most of which included words like ‘pissbag’ and ‘arse’. Dorian couldn’t help but agree, even if his language wasn’t as crude as Sera’s. 

Blackwall—or Rainier, as he went by now—on the other hand, was a bit more perturbed. “To think he was with us this whole time… Maker, I still can’t believe it.”

“At least now I know why he was such a grouchy arse over all the elfy stuff,” Sera went with an exaggerated eyeroll. “Because—surprise!—he’s a grouchy elfy pissbag! If I were there I’d have cracked his head open like that arse in Crestwood.”

Vivienne sniffed disdainfully. “It goes to show that you can never really trust an apostate.”

Dorian could only sigh. “Whatever happened between the Inquisitor and Solas , he seems determined to try and convince him otherwise. He doesn’t—he doesn’t want to fight Solas directly unless he has to.”

There was another sniff from Vivienne. “Of course he doesn’t, darling, you should know our dear Inquisitor by now. Just look at Blackwall over here as a prime example.”

She gestured towards Rainier as she said that, and it was clear that Rainier was trying very hard not to make any sort of disgruntled face. Although said disgruntled feelings were still clear in his voice as he spoke. “The Inquisitor is—well. You should know better than anyone how he is, Dorian.”

“Always trying to make every bloody one happy. Always giving everyone a bloody second chance,” Sera quipped for him. “Even these bloody pricks. Stuff like that’s going to get him killed one day, let me just say it now.”

Dorian knows, of course, he knows all too well. Javas and how he always only wanted to try and make people happy. To help them. Give them the hope they’ve lost, the joy that’s gone in their lives. That had always how he had been, right from the beginning. Even now, that had not changed even in the slightest. It was admirable. Admirable, and also so very foolish.

The mere thought of Javas has Dorian’s stomach lurching uncomfortably. He puts down the mug he had been holding up and moves to stand up from his seat. “Speaking of the Inquisitor, I’m going to go see him now. Are there any regards you wish for me to pass on?”

Rainier shakes his head and Vivienne almost started to say something, but Sera cuts in before she can speak. “Tell him we should make cookies someday!” She exclaims out loud, her voice causing some of the patrons of the bar to turn around and stare.

Vivienne sends Sera a brief, annoyed look. “Tell him to look for me once he’s well enough. I’ll schedule another spa date with him.”

Seeing the other two women having given their own regards, Rainier adds on his own. “…just hope that he gets better soon, and if he needs help in training, I can try and help with that.”

“I’ll pass all of them on.” Dorian gives them a smile with those words and bids them goodbye before he turns and starts making his way towards the guest wing. 

As he passed by the arch to the main garden he caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye, and before he can turn to look a familiar voice spoke to him. “Hello, Dorian.”

Dorian turned around and saw Cole, in his familiar hat and even more familiar outfit—apparently becoming more human hasn’t changed his fashion sense much. Well, he supposed there was a sort of charm in what he was currently wearing. “Hello, Cole,” he greeted back in return.

Cole looked at Dorian for several moments before he smiled. “You’re going to see him. It makes him better. It makes him whole again.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know who Cole is talking about. “Is he finished with Cullen and the rest?”

“Yes,” he replied, and the smile briefly turns into something more mischievous. “I didn’t hear that, though. I just saw Cullen walking his dog before I saw you.”

Dorian quirked a smile; sure, Cole was still strange in some ways, but in times like these it was easier to see the more human part of him. “Thank you, Cole. Do you want me to pass on any messages to the Inquisitor?”

Cole seemed to think about that for a second. “Tell him not to worry no matter what happens,” he said, the gentle smile on his face once more. “He has all of us, and he has you. You always make him happy. Don’t forget that.”

“I…” He hadn’t expected something like that, that had been for sure. Dorian needed a moment to just take that in. He made Javas happy. Cole couldn’t lie, so he knew that was the truth, but it was still so hard to believe. Before, yes, he could easily believe that, but now, after everything…

“Waking up, seeing you still at his side, our hands joined together,” Cole intones softly, haunting but in a gentler, quieter fashion. “Warmth, peace, contentment. It makes the emptiness go away, even for a moment.” He fixes Dorian with a knowing look. “You should go now. He misses you.”

“…I will.” Dorian takes in a breath and manages a smile on his face. “Thank you again, Cole.”

Cole returns Dorian’s smile with his own. “His light has dimmed, but you make it brighter. I’m sure you can make it shine once again, in time.”

* * *

The room was, indeed, empty of all advisors and their discussions. Javas was sitting up in bed again with a book in his lap, quietly going through the pages. Dorian made his way over to him and settled down on the chair he was pretty sure had an impression of his arse by now, from all the time he spent sitting on it.

Javas over to him once Dorian had settled down, giving him the same quiet smile he had been greeting him with in the last few days. “Is it that time already?” he asked, only sounding slightly surprised.

“Of course it is,” Dorian huffed, trying his best to give Javas a look. “All that talking with your advisors must have really muddled your sense of time. I can’t believe you forget the time where you can spend it with my wonderful company.”

There was a small laugh, which quickly quietened down. “I would never forget my time with you, Dorian,” Javas said, voice soft, and his hand reached out to clasp around Dorian’s own. “I told you as much.”

Dorian tried to feign annoyance, but all he could manage out was faint exasperation as he gave Javas’ hand a squeeze. “I remember very well.” He would always remember, he thinks. Javas was never good with words but in that moment back then, when Javas was facing what he thought would be his last time, he would always remember the words that Javas said to him.

_(“Whatever happens, I wouldn’t trade the years we’ve had together for anything.”)_

Dorian turned his gaze down from Javas and to the book on his lap. “What are you reading?” he asked, reaching out with his free hand to take the book over.

“I—ah.” Javas shifted a little in bed, his hand shifting. “It’s—”

A loud crash right outside the room interrupted Javas before he could respond entirely, and the both of them turned to look at the door for only a moment before it burst open and a dark blur raced into the room. Dorian was alarmed for about half a second before a bark sounded out from where Javas was and there was an emphatic cry of _‘No!’_ that could only belong to Cullen.

Dorian looked back to see Javas now currently occupied with a large mabari in his lap. The dog was licking at his chin, and Javas was laughing at the sensation, hand patting gently at its back. Footsteps came closer to the room and Dorian turned his gaze back to the door to see Cullen entering with a clearly exasperated look on his face, Leliana stepping in after him, looking amused on her own end.

“Maker, I didn’t think—“ Cullen started, sounding quite flustered, half glaring at the mabari on the bed. “My apologies, Inquisitor, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Javas shook his head. “It’s alright,” he returned, even as Leliana let out a soft chuckle from behind the commander. 

“I believe it has taken a liking to you as well, Inquisitor,” she said, stepping forward and casting a smirk to the dog, much to Cullen’s own visible disapproval. “There has always been tales of how animals can help greatly in the recovery process.”

“Are there?” Javas asked, and then laughed when the mabari licked his chin once more. “Maybe there are. I feel myself getting better already.”

A mildly discomforting look passed by Cullen’s face for a moment before he spoke again. “I’m not sure how the palace would take to having the mabari here, but if it makes the Inquisitor feel better—”

Javas laughed once more. “It’s alright, Cullen.” He paused for a moment, then looked at Dorian and gave him an amused look. “I think Dorian makes a good replacement for me.”

Dorian turned and gave Javas his best unimpressed look. “Oh, so I’m only as good as a Ferelden, is it? Should I lie down on your lap and lick your chin, too?”

There was another laugh, and Javas at least seemed to look apologetic. “Much better than a Ferelden. Your dashing good looks have me sold.” He could feel Javas squeezing his hand briefly after speaking, and there was no way Dorian could keep up his annoyance for much longer after that.

He let out a humph. “At least your eyes seem to be working fine.”

Leliana cleared her throat quietly. “We’ll come and see you again later, Inquisitor. Perhaps with Divine Victoria, when she can make the time.”

Dorian felt his heart sinking a little at the implications of that—yet more discussions, no doubt. The reality of what was to come drew ever closer, and after all the years, Dorian… he couldn’t really imagine what it’d be like, without the Inquisition. It had become so dear to him, almost as much as Tevinter itself, even with all of its faults. The group had almost been like a family, and Javas… he knew that the man was more than just the Inquisitor, but somehow not thinking him as the Inquisitor seemed to just be wrong on so many levels.

Something passed over Javas’ features, but it quickly dissipated and Javas gave a nod to Leliana’s words. “Alright.”

Cullen gave a nod of his own. “We’ll be seeing you later, then. Come along, M.” He gestured to the mabari at those words, and the dog barked an affirmative. It gave Javas one more lick on the chin and proceeded to jump down from the bed, following Cullen obediently as he left the room along with Leliana. 

Dorian watched until the door closed shut behind them, then proceeded to turn his gaze back towards Javas with one arched eyebrow. “M?”

Javas shrugged helplessly. “Cullen asked me for names. You know how bad I am with names.”

“Oh yes. After when you called your Dracolisk mount simply ‘D’, it was quite apparent.” It had given Varric a good laugh, though—and the dwarf had been so amused by it he said he had to try and get it into his books someday. It was… sort of a charming trait, Dorian could see. It would be a lie if he said he hadn’t been amused himself at some point or other.

Javas smiled before he glanced down at his lap, and then proceeded to pause and blink in mild surprise. “Ah, the book—”

Dorian only had a second to digest those words before alarm rose within him when Javas started to bend over the left side of the bed, far too close to the edge. “Javas—” he started, already standing up from the chair.

“It’s okay, I can—” Before Javas could finish speaking however there was a yelp, and suddenly Javas was tumbling over the side. Dorian fought to squash the panic rising up inside of him and quickly hurried around to the other side of the bed. Javas on the floor, lying on his left side, his right hand braced against the floor and Dorian could see Javas straining to get back up. 

Dorian swore in his head and kneeled down, proceeding to help Javas back up onto the bed. It didn’t take long, and soon Javas was sitting back once more, looking ashamed as Dorian placed the book onto his lap.

“You should have just asked me for help,” Dorian chided gently, fingers trailing down from the book back on Javas’ lap back to his hand, their fingers twining together as Dorian clasped their hands together once again. “Don’t exert yourself for anything unless you have to.”

Javas let out a tired sigh. “It was just picking a book up, Dorian, I was barely exerting myself.”

“ _Yes_ , but you need to remember that things are different now! Your arm is—” He stopped himself at that point, because there was no way he could finish that sentence. _Your arm is gone now._ It’s the harsh truth that weighs heavily on him, but it must weigh much more on Javas as well. The yelp earlier when he tumbled down—it wasn’t just surprise he had heard. It was fear, too. Javas must have tried to balance himself with his left, and then…

The slip up doesn’t go past Javas. An unfathomable expression passed over his face, and Dorian could feel his insides clenching up once again from the pained look he can see just from Javas’ eyes. That was—it was entirely unfair, he knew. It was too unfair for him. Here was Javas, who had literally given everything for the Inquisition and more, and what he got in return was nothing but pain and a complete lack of gratitude. 

He remembered when he told Javas how nobody would ever thank him back during the first time, and then right before all of this happened. He had never expected it would end up like this.

Dorian squeezed Javas’ hand again. “Amatus, I—”

Javas stopped him before Dorian could go on any further. “No, you’re right. I need to be more careful now. I can’t just assume things would be what they were before I—“ he hesitated, and Dorian could see the way Javas choked up at the word. “—before.”

“Things will be better,” Dorian tried his best to assure him. “You will be better, amatus. You _are_ better already.”

Javas looked towards Dorian and gave him a smile. “Thank you, Dorian.” 

The words were sincere, Dorian knew, but the smile… he could see the shadow that haunted over him, the pain that was still there, Javas so desperately trying to hide it away. Cole’s words float back to him in that moment and Dorian squeezed Javas’ hand once again. Javas had to know—he had to know that he was still loved and cherished by all of his friends, even after all that’s happened. He would make Javas shine bright once again.

* * *

The verdict was finally handed down, but at least it was by Javas’ own hand. 

Dorian knows that he should be glad that the Inquisition was still around, somewhat, but they all knew it wasn’t going to be the same as it had once been. Javas had made his intention to step down clear enough during his proclamation, and without him—everything was going to change, even if it seemed like nothing had changed at all. 

He stepped back besides Javas when the others had left, watching the sun slowly set across the horizon of the Orelsian lands. “I leave for Tevinter tomorrow.” With the verdict done the council was wrapping up, and as much as Dorian wanted to stay here he had to return. There was only so long the Magisterium would wait for him and if he wanted to start his reforms, he couldn’t afford to lose any edge that he had. 

Javas doesn’t say anything, but he can feel his hand reaching out to his own, fingers threading over one another. Dorian squeezed his hand and remained standing there with him, for as long as he needed to. It was the least he could do.

He doesn’t know exactly how long they stay there standing and watching the sky, but eventually Javas was the one who broke the silence. He gave Dorian’s hand a squeeze and turned to him, a quiet yearning on his expression as he asked him quietly. “Stay with me tonight. Please.”

Dorian quickly gave his consent. “Anything, amatus.” Even if Javas hadn’t asked Dorian would have done the same, anyway. There was no way he would left their last night together just slip by like this.

He made sure to take his time that night, treating as if they had all the time in the world and not just for the next few hours before the dawn breaks.

He doesn’t try for anything even remotely fancy, none of the things he would have usually suggested or tried to get Javas to do in the usual circumstances. Instead he simply has Javas remain lying, telling him not to move an inch as he covered his body with kisses. From his hair to his toes Dorian crossed over every part of his body, leaving no skin untouched, making sure that every part of him knew just how much Dorian loved him. 

Below him he could hear Javas trying to keep himself quiet, only letting out the barest minimum of whimpers and groans even as he could feel his cock leaking against his bare thigh, aching for more than all the kisses Dorian had given him. 

“Soon, amatus,” he said, whisper soft, murmuring the words against Javas’ throat before planting a kiss at the pulse point there. “I’ll make you feel good.”

Javas let out a choked sound and Dorian could feel his hand clutching desperately at his back. He leaned up, graceful and lithe, shifting to cover himself over Javas entirely; slotting their bodies together in that perfect way they both liked best. He bent back down and kissed Javas on the lips this time, deepening it quickly, trying not to break inside at the way Javas kissed back so desperately, as if there was nothing else for him.

He broke off the kiss once they were out of breath and panted slightly as he stared into Javas’ bright green eyes, one hand brushing back the messy strands of his hair, its usual brown now shadowed by the moonlight streaming in from the windows. 

Javas looked back at him, the raw desperation on his face, the façade he had been wearing for days swiftly crackling. “Dorian, please.”

Dorian obliged him. He started to move his hips, letting their cocks rub against each other, moaning at the delicious friction that came from their rutting. Below him Javas sounded just as lost in the pleasure, no longer able to keep himself quiet as he arched up and moaned, and Dorian could feel nails digging into his back. 

“ _Amatus,_ ” he hissed out, pressing closer, wanting more, like always. He always wanted more, all of Javas, all of that goodness and kindness inside. Being with Javas for all these years had made him so much better, so much happier, and now, when Javas needed him the most, he wanted to be there as well. He would always be there for him.

_(“I love you.”)_

“I love you.”

Javas gasped at the words, surprise on his face, and it stayed there for a while until an entirely different emotion took hold of him. Dorian watched as the surprise changed into pain, then sorrow as the last bits of Javas’ façade crumbled and he could see tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. 

“Dorian,” he cried out, and this time the pain was raw and all too real to ignore. “ _Dorian._ ”

“Amatus,” he returned, wanting Javas to know, always wanting him to know, to remember, to never forget. “I’m here, amatus. I’ll always be here.”

Javas doesn’t say anything else besides Dorian’s name as his hand clutches into Dorian’s hair this time, but Dorian can tell everything that Javas doesn’t voice out in the trembles of his voice and body. He could see it all in the way he shook when he pulled Dorian in close and tight, burying his face into the crook of his neck, finally letting out the tears he knew Javas never had the chance to let out until now.

 _Don’t leave me,_ the tears told him. _Don’t leave me. Don’t forget me. I love you._

And Dorian returned those tears with kisses and pleasure, holding Javas just as close and bringing him over the edge as he responded those unspoken words with his own. _I won’t leave you. I won’t forget you. I love you too._

* * *

He dreamed about Javas that night, the two of them curled up on a grassy hill in the countryside, watching the stars in the night sky above them.

“There’s Draconis,” Javas said as he pointed to a cluster of stars to their right. “It’s always been one of my favourites. Bull might like it more than me, though.”

Dorian chuckled. “He only likes dragons when they’re breathing fire right in our faces.”

“That’s true.” Javas went with a laugh. He glanced up at the sky once more and then smiled, tugging on Dorian’s hand excitedly as he pointed to another cluster of stars. “Look! It’s Fenrir!”

He looked in the direction where Javas was pointing at for a moment before something clicked inside of him. He glanced downwards, then, noticing that his right hand was being holding Javas’ left hand. A hand that shouldn’t exist anymore. 

Dorian looked back up and saw Javas’ sad expression staring back at him. “You’ve always been much smarter than I gave you credit for, Dorian,” he spoke, and instead of Javas’ voice it was somebody else’s entirely. Someone else Dorian had not expected to hear from. 

He let go of Javas’ hand and turned; the grassy hill and countryside disappeared, replaced with the sickly green glow of the Fade around him. A figure stood right before him, looking completely the same but yet utterly different, and Dorian hissed his name out in disgust. “ _Fen’Harel._ ”

A pained look appeared on Solas’ face. “I take it that the Inquisitor has told you what happened, then.”

“It was a bit hard not to.” Dorian’s voice was sharp and curt, but he couldn’t help it. He and Solas had never quite gotten along fabulously as he had with Vivienne, true, but Solas had been somebody Dorian still respected. Maker, he had even gone so far as to _apologize_ to Solas about what he had thought Tevinter had done to his people. And to think all this time…

Solas turned his gaze away and sighed wearily. “I did not take joy in what I had to do, Dorian. But at least he will live.”

Dorian knows he should be grateful, in some fashion or another, but all he felt in that moment was rage and vitriol for what Solas had done to Javas, and the grief he had caused. “You didn’t have to take his entire fucking _arm_ , Solas.”

“The mark had already caused irreparable damage at that point.” Solas looked back at Dorian, voice solemn and unyielding. “Either way, his arm would have already been useless. The mark burned out everything there.”

“The mark _you_ put on him,” Dorian spat out.

Solas frowned. “I did not put it there.”

“You might as well bloody have!”

The elf glanced down once more. There was a pause before he spoke. “As I have told the Inquisitor, I did not anticipate Corypheus to survive the initial blast. That had put all my plans into jeopardy. Him bearing the mark… that, too, was something I did not expect.”

Dorian started to say something at that point, but Solas continued before he could speak. “For better or for worse, I am glad that he was the one who bore the mark. Javas is… a kind man. Exceptionally kind. Generously giving. Remarkable, even more so than Cassandra. But you know as well as I do that this strength is at the same time his greatest weakness.”

Of course he knew. He knew all too well, and all too much. He had even chided Javas for it before, himself, but it had always been the one thing Javas would never give in. “And you know as well as I do what that strength allowed him to do,” he said after a moment’s pause.

“Being there right from the beginning, of course I do.” Solas gave a small shake of his head and sighed once more. “I asked him before, once, on why he decides to do as he does. Do you know what he told me?”

Dorian kept himself quiet, not wanting to talk to Solas any more than necessary, but still Solas answers the question anyway. “You don’t need to be a mage to be cruel. You don’t need to be Divine to be kind. Anybody can be who they want to be if they try.”

That was indeed something that Javas _would_ say. Dorian still keeps his silence, although it seemed as if Solas was just as fine with his monologue without any request. “He means it out of goodwill, but it could be turned around just as easily. There is evil as much as there is goodness in this world. The people who live here now... once, I had thought nothing of them. But the Inquisitor showed me the value of this world.” He gave a weak chuckle at that point. “I almost wish he hadn’t. It would have made everything… easier.”

“He’s not going to let you have your way.” Dorian couldn’t keep himself quiet any longer; he was never really good at keeping quiet in the first place, anyway.

“I know. He told me as much.” Solas smiled then, strangely sad, and turned his back to Dorian. The world around him began to shimmer and slowly vanish, and before everything went dark, Dorian heard his last words. “And I hope he can prove me wrong. I truly hope that he can.”

* * *

The time had come to depart, and there were no more ways for Dorian to delay the inevitable.

“Try not to get into too much trouble when I’m not around,” he said as he led his horse out of the gates to the Winter Palace. 

Javas let out a laugh and shook his head. “I’m no longer the Inquisitor. Can’t really get into much trouble without the fancy title over my head.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find _some_ way to cause trouble even without being the Inquisitor.” They were through the gates now, and Dorian came to a stop, tugging for the horse to keep still. “I wouldn’t be surprised if news of you reaches Tevinter still.”

“I’ll be sure to let you know beforehand if I do get up into anything troublesome.” The message crystal around his neck gleamed at Dorian under the sun, an unspoken promise in that as well as in the smile that Javas gave him.

Dorian laughed, and reached over to Javas, tugging him in for a brief kiss. A last gift he could give to him, before the months that lay ahead of them. “If I don’t hear the news first before the rest of the Imperium, I’d be sorely disappointed,” he said once they pulled apart.

Javas stepped backwards and the smile on his face widened. “I’ll try my best not to disappoint you, then.”

“You’d better.” Dorian saddled himself up onto his horse and glanced down to Javas. He paused for a moment, then smiled and reached down with his left hand. “I’ll see you soon, amatus.”

Javas came back forward, extending his right hand forward and clasped Dorian’s hand in his own, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll see you later, Dorian. Don’t forget to write.”

Dorian pulled his hand back and smirked this time. “And see how terribly you write with your right in return? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

All Javas did was to shake his head, stepping back once more. “Take care, Dorian,” he said, “Good luck.”

“And you as well.” Dorian gave one last smile at Javas and got his horse to start moving, never allowing himself to look back as he urged his horse on ever forward. This wasn’t a goodbye, or a farewell. It was a promise to be together still, and to meet again in the future, one day. Dorian knew that more than ever now, and he knew that Javas understood that, too. They may be far away from each other now, but they could never truly be apart. Nothing in this world could take them entirely away from one another. 

_Forever, amatus,_ he has said, right before they drifted off in that last night. _Together, until the end of our days._

That was the promise he would keep.

* * *

“Magister Pavus, there is an audience for you.”

Dorian glanced up from his frankly tedious amount of paperwork. If he knew what he was trying to do would involve this amount of red tape and fancy writing, he might have reconsidered it. But at least the years in the Inquisition had helped him deal with it as much as he could—although sometimes a letter of advice from Josephine didn’t go amiss, either.

He looked at the attendant who was waiting for his response and frowned for a moment. As much as he could remember, he certainly didn’t recall any meetings scheduled for this time. “Who is it?”

The attendant seemed surprised at the question. “It’s, uh—he’s from the South, my lord. Said that he came to give you advice from the last letter you sent to Lady Montilyet.”

Dorian let out a snort, unable to help himself. Him, giving advice for Josephine? Ha. “Alright, send him in.”

“At once.” The attendant bowed and quickly left, and Dorian pushed aside his paperwork. He could deal with them later. Nothing was as important as the man who was now entering his office.

Footsteps sounded from the front, and Dorian stood up from his seat, walking around his table and leaning against it with his arms crossed as he watched his guest enter the room. He quirked a smile at the gleam of the message crystal around his neck, and that same smile widened as he looked up to green eyes that had darkened with time, partly obscured with that eternally messy brown hair he came to know so well.

“Hello, amatus.”


End file.
